Snapshots
by Abstract Wonder
Summary: Fragments of a lifetime in which the paths of two individuals cross more than could possibly be coincidence. Kerry/Michel
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter Title: **Silence

**Summary: **Michel escorts Kerry home from a funeral. They speak, and are silent in turn.

**Warnings:** slightly depressing, nothing graphic

**Rating:** T

**Pairing:** Kerry/Michel (if you like to read between the lines)

"There are haunters of the silence,

Ghosts who hold the heart and brain."

-Madison Julius Caiwen, _Haunters of the Silence_

She wasn't afraid. Not really, anyway. He was watching her as she moved across the floor, stopping every few feet to accept the condolences of a few well meaning mourners. Still, steadily she was making her way toward him.

So maybe he was right. And she was wrong. Life didn't last forever.

"Not going to cry, are you?" he asked, smiling that funny little half-smile. She just looked at him.

"I don't think so."

The smile faded into a more intense stare. "Good."

Such a funny concept, living. People threw the word around with no real grasp of how precious it was…until it was lost. He was putting an arm around her now, ushering her away from the crowd around the coffin.

She let him do it. Together they made their way out into the night.

"Hey."

"Hmm. Yes?"

He slid the key into the lock on the passenger side of his car and held it open for her. She got in carefully, smoothing her dress back and out of the way. He shut the door behind her firmly, and went around to sit in the driver's seat. She let him put the car into gear and back out of the parking lot before she continued.

"Does it frighten you?"

"Does what?"

"That it could have been me lying there, instead of Olivia."

His hands tightened on the wheel, and his mouth set in a firm line. She examined his face carefully for any hint of weakness, of vulnerability.

Nothing.

So she pressed onward. "It was only luck, really, that I managed to survive at all. The water was so deep, and she was pulling me down.

"Olivia never learned to swim," she added, as an afterthought. "My mother taught me how as soon as I learned to crawl."

"Fortunate," he remarked dryly, as if implying the exact opposite. Kerry wasn't fooled. He accelerated up to the corner of the street, eager to get her home and himself away as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, I think so. It's good I could remember the basics, though. Did you know I was treading water for five whole minutes while they got a boat out there?"

He said nothing, but wrenched the wheel around violently, taking the turn at eighty miles an hour. She shrieked and grabbed hold of the armrests.

"Jesus, Michel! This is a thirty five miles per hour zone! Are you _trying_ to kill us both?"

"Been there, done that," he reminded her with a tight smile.

She shrugged. He still wasn't looking at her. "You know what I mean."

There was no reply. Kerry stared out the window at the lights flying by and took a deep breath. The quiet was suffocating her slowly. It was not by words that she would come undone, it was in silence. He was often cruelest in his silences.

As for herself, well, words were her _only _weapon.

"I wasn't scared," she said slowly. She could almost feel the stillness shatter around her, sending shards flying in every direction. "I was cold, though. I was wishing it could be decided already one way or another."

She wasn't watching him anymore, but facing straight forward, face blank. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him steal a glance at her.

"I knew Olivia was gone. She wasn't screaming any longer. And I was tired. Tired of kicking; tired of waiting for someone that might never come."

"But you kept waiting," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Yes. I think…I think I would have waited until my legs gave out and dragged me under. Underwater."

She shuddered and wondered when the conversation had taken on a double meaning.

They were pulling into her driveway now, and she hugged herself, rubbing her arms furiously in an attempt to ease the goosebumps that had arisen.

"Would you have come?" she asked suddenly, "If I had died? Would you have brought flowers for the casket?"

"Kerry," he warned.

But she couldn't stop; she was half hysterical already. Her voice was rising in pitch. "Would you have visited my grave, when they buried me? Or would you have forgotten already?"

He slammed on the brakes without warning and turned to her furiously. "That is enough."

She made a strangled sound, half laugh half sob. "No, Michel. It's never enough."

He looked away sharply and she got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. He didn't pull away until she had closed the door behind her and turned on the porch lights. She watched his taillights until they vanished from view, and thought about death.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter:** Jealousy

**Summary: **Michel discovers her boyfriend and doesn't approve.

**Rating:** T

Jason was taking her dancing. That in itself was enough to show the kind of commitment she was prepared to make for him; Kerry hated clubbing. It was too much of _his_ scene.

And her obsession with him had already crossed the borderline creepy and was well into the land of ridiculous.

So she let Jason coax her out of the house in her new jeans and sparkly top. She didn't protest when he parked across the street from one of the newer clubs in the downtown area, Spin. She followed him inside and let him buy her a drink. Then another. And another.

By then Kerry could feel the buzz and the relaxation seeping into her limbs and numbing her brain.

He asks her to dance. She takes on look at the crowd of scantily dressed gyrators and demands another beer. He complies, and they make their way onto the floor.

Though she may have hated clubbing, Kerry loved to dance. She loved the feelings of exhilaration, and the release of tension. She loved having the ability to let go in the midst of a crowd of people all doing exactly the same thing.

They danced for hours, until Kerry was sure her feet were ready to fall off. She leaned in close to Jason and yelled in his ear that she'd had enough, that it was two in the morning and she had a math test to take at ten.

One more dance, he begged, pulling her in close. Just one more slow song. She agreed, and turned her head sideways to rest it on his shoulder.

As she moved, her gaze caught on something familiar. From across the room, Michel was staring straight at her, a frown on his face and a blonde on his arm. Kerry blanched, feeling guilt tug at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Immediately she straightened back up and arranged her expression into one of more suitable defiance.

He grabbed his girl's arm and dragged her away, despite her protesting.

Kerry pulled Jason out of the club in a similar manner a few minutes afterward, and he drove her home, fully expecting to stay the rest of the night. Still disturbed and irritable, she nixed the plan and headed inside her house alone to curl up in bed and wait.

The creaking of bedsprings and sliding of sheets over her body startled her into awareness. She blinked groggily and tried to make sense of the neon red numbers on her clock. Four thirty.

"Michel?"

Long fingers ghosted over her face, tracing her cheekbones, eyelids, lips, and the tip of her nose.

"Michel, this isn't funny."

Kerry reached out to turn on the light, but he caught her hand in his own and drew it back down onto the bed. "Shhhh."

"Ugh." Kerry rolled over onto her stomach and hid her face in the pillow, hoping to hide her satisfaction and pleasure as well. "What do you want? I have tests in the morning."

In reply, he closed the distance between them, tilted her head up with his hand and kissed her lips. He was gentle at first, slow and soft, stroking her hair away from her face. The beginning was always the sweetest. He waited for her to respond before becoming forceful, crushing his mouth on hers with a bruising strength that left her gasping.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to tug her nightshirt up over her head and toss it aside. His hands moved lower, to the drawstrings of her sweatpants. She grasped wildly at his wrists, and caught them easily enough.

"No."

He shot her a questioning look, and she shook her head. "I don't want that anymore."

Rolling his eyes, he bent his face back toward hers. "Kiss me again. Then we'll see how much you don't want this."

_A slippery slope,_ Kerry thought to herself wryly, turning her head away. It was almost physically painful, how much she wanted him.

"Jason is a good guy. He loves me," she couldn't keep the tiny hint of accusation from creeping into her voice, "and he would never leave me."

Michel leaned back onto his elbows and eyed her, saying with forced casualness, "Jason. So that was the boy you were mooning over earlier."

"I wasn't _mooning_," Kerry said indignantly.

"You were plastering yourself all over him," Michel told her patiently, "It was practically indecent."

"Yeah, like _you_ don't get that from every girl you pick up," Kerry said bitterly. Clarity suddenly hit her, and she smiled slowly.

"You're jealous, aren't you?"

Michel glanced over at her from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. She smiled wider.

"You are. Well, my Mom always used to say that turnabout's fair play."

"Yes, and where is she now, your dear mother?"

Kerry flinched back, rendered momentarily speechless. It took a minute to find her voice, and when she finally did, it came out husky and low. "Below the belt, Michel."

"Don't change the subject, Kerry." He mimicked.

She got out of bed and stalked over to her bedroom door, throwing it open. "Get out."

He didn't budge. She slammed her hand against the doorframe angrily. "I said, get out of here!"

He rose from the bed in a single fluid motion and walked slowly toward her until she was backing up to keep from being stepped on.

Her back hit the wall, and he placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned in close. "I don't take orders from you."

She caught her breath as he leaned in and brushed his lips gently across her throat before stepping away and releasing her. She let out the breath she'd been holding, slightly disappointed. He flashed her a knowing smile.

"You know where to find me."

She watched him turn and silently leave the room, and listened until the front door slammed. Then she walked over to the window and stared out into the night, feeling vaguely cheated. His last words had been unshakeable. He had no doubt at all about her loyalties.

She, on the other hand, was a different story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Title:** Battles

**Chapter Summary:** Kerry has always been able to hold her own in a fight. But these are a new kind of conflict, and in here she is helpless.

**Rating:** high T (might go up for the next chapter--watch out)

--

She and Jason were fighting now. A lot. It hadn't been like that a month ago, when they were still blissfully happy—or at least, she told herself she had been. Then they'd moved in together. It lasted all of three weeks, and then they were fighting.

Kerry knew it was mostly her own fault, and wondered when she had become so irritable.

It had all taken a downward turn after the night spent clubbing. For that, Kerry blamed Michel. Obviously she couldn't tell that to Jason. But he suspected…something. And she could never confront him, because he was correct.

She was in love with someone else.

But she still cared a lot about Jason, despite the fights she instigated, and the lies she told. And then, one Sunday evening, everything spiraled out of control.

"Come on, Kerry." He was frustrated. "We hardly ever see each other anymore and we _live_ together!"

"We're both busy," she retorted, "And you know it. I'm taking five classes this semester, and you've got that new job. Life is not going to get smoother for a long time."

"Well you could at least try a little harder!"

"Me?" Kerry let out a half-hysterical shout of laughter. "Jason, what about you? All you can do is yell, criticize, and cast blame on everyone but yourself. But you know what, you can just get off your damn high horse and—"

Her words were cut off by a resounding smack. The kitchen suddenly seemed to ring with silence. Kerry slowly lifted a hand to her mouth. It came away sticky with blood.

Jason stared at her in horror, then left and didn't come back that night. Afterwards he pretended it never happened. She let him.

But it happened again the next week. He had been drinking in the kitchen, and she made a snide comment on the sheer number of beer bottles he had accumulated, lying sideways on the counter next to him. He shoved her roughly away, and she staggered, tumbling into the sharp edge of the table.

It didn't bleed, but within the hour she was sporting a bruise the size of a mango on her hip. This time, she was the one to leave.

She got into her car with half a tank of gas and no real knowledge of where she was headed. She put her brain on autopilot and let her hands steer her down a half-forgotten road. But the trick with places not completely forgotten? They are still remembered.

If her hands guided her behind the wheel, her feet carried her back into the nightclub. In the back of her mind, she knew escape was not the real reason she had come, but she ignored that inner voice. If it all came to naught…well, she could burn that bridge when she crossed it.

But, no, there he was. She could feel his eyes on her as she hesitated in the doorway. Knowing he was watching, analyzing every move, Kerry squared her shoulders and stepped into the room. After a moment of brief consideration, she decided against joining the throng of dancers. Tonight didn't feel like a celebration.

Instead she headed over to the bar, where two underage boys quickly cleared a stool for her. She nodded her thanks, and flashed her id at the bartender.

"Cosmopolitan."

He grunted, setting down the glass he'd been cleaning, and went to go get her the drink. She was pulling out her wallet to pay for it when she was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

"I've got it, Jesse."

She glanced up, startled.

A tall, sandy blonde, cute in that school-boy kind of way was smiling down at her. His dress shirt and khakis were a brand she recognized as one of the more pricey ones, and his teeth had definitely seen some expensive orthodontic work. Teeth just weren't that straight outside of TV commercials. Kerry smiled back, resisting the urge to withdraw her hand. "Thank you."

"Sure," he said, sliding into the space next to her. When he didn't say anything more, and she didn't volunteer, the silence became awkward. She took a sip of her drink for something to do while waiting for him to make the routine proposal, which she would just as routinely refuse, and he would leave, offended.

It didn't come. He continued to stare at her. "You're very pretty, you know."

She didn't answer. He rose and grabbed her forearm, giving a slight tug. "Come on, let's go somewhere else."

There it was. Kerry tried to shake him off. "Thanks, but I have a boyfriend."

"That's funny. I don't see him here. Do you?"

A pale hand suddenly slipped around her waist from behind, drawing her firmly against a hard, flat chest.

"Is this idiot bothering you, Kerry?" Michel drawled. He was eyeing the boy with an air of mixed amusement and intensity. His teeth clicked together in a feral grin that made her agitator's eyes go wide with surprised nervousness.

Kerry twisted her head around to look up at him, trying to hide her relief. "He was. But he's leaving now."

The boy was glancing from Kerry to Michel, the expression on his face plainly showing he thought he'd been cheated. One more look from Michel, however, was enough to send him packing.

Sighing, Kerry relaxed her tensed muscles. "Thanks for that."

She expected him to let go of her then, and move away. He didn't. Instead he moved his hands up to her shoulders and gently rubbed the knotted muscles.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Kerry raised one eyebrow, keeping a look of skeptical non-interest on her face—a gesture that was completely lost on him since he was behind her. "Why would you think that?"

"The fact that you're here alone, getting pawed at by spoiled frat boys, might have tipped me off. What did he want, anyway?"

"What they all want," Kerry responded, "To get me out of here, and then into my pants."

"You're not wearing pants," he pointed out.

Kerry huffed in frustration. "Don't be a wiseass. You know what I mean."

"I do." He dropped his hands from her shoulders and leaned in close until his lips were brushing her ear. "What would you say if I made you that same offer?"

She shivered involuntarily. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin; he knew she was fighting a losing battle. Hell, _she_ knew it was a lost cause, even before he took her hands and led her outside. She took a deep breath, the chilly air burning the back of her throat, and let it out slowly. _This is it_.

She looked to the left as they crossed the street. She could see her battered blue car, sitting in a spot only twenty feet away. She could let go of his hand, get in her car, and drive back to Jason. Apologize. If she did, she knew she would never come back. Never see Michel again. _The turning point_.

To Be Continued…

--

This is part one of two. The next installment will be a continuation, and much hotter than what we've seen yet. Rating will most likely be bumped up.

Thanks to my two lovely reviewers. This one's for you guys.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So, I tried to make all of these segments standalones. COMPLETE failure. I think I've used the same OC in 3 out of 4 snippets. Damn. Anyway, the next few should be disconnected. I hope.

This one is a continuation of the last piece. That is why it does not get its own title. Also, I'd love for you to leave a suggestion for a theme (death, envy, escape, etc.) in a review or PM. I always need more inspiration, and when I use your suggestion the chapter will be dedicated to you! Yay!

...what do you mean that's not enough incentive?!

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"_She could let go of his hand, get in her car, and drive back to Jason. Apologize. If she did, she knew, she would never come back. Never see Michel again. The turning point."_

"Kerry?"

She blinked, startled. Michel tugged gently on her hand. She followed him down the street, barely sparing a glance for her old blue car as they passed it by.

"You'll need to drive me back tonight to get my car," she told him as they approached his sleek black sedan. He let go of her hand as they split around the car; she to the passenger seat, he to the driver's side.

He drove in silence for a while, letting her sit quietly with her thoughts. Really, all she was doing was her damndest _not_ to think.

If she thought about what she was doing, she would recognize it was wrong. And then she would have to do something about it. But if she never acknowledged it…

No. _Stop._ She whirled to face Michel, careful to keep the desperate tone out of her voice as she asked,

"Where are we going?"

He shot her a sidelong glance, and she knew she hadn't done a very good job. "I have an apartment in Uptown."

She nodded and went back to staring out the windshield. The passion she had felt earlier was slowly ebbing, only to be replaced by doubts. She twisted the hem of her shirt between her hands, wringing it anxiously.

Unexpectedly, Michel reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling it away from her clothing. "Stop that."

His voice was harsh but his touch was gentle as he folded her hand around the armrest. She waited until he let go to clamp down on the leather, digging her fingers in until her knuckles whitened. He'd always been able to read her far too well.

This was ridiculous. She knew it was illogical and completely unreasonable to be having this much internal conflict over one night.

Besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't done this sort of thing before.

_Whore._

Kerry was really starting to hate her inner voices.

She fidgeted in the seat impatiently, as if by moving she could somehow silence her conscience, which seemed to be fixated on tormenting her.

And then they stopped. Michel eased the car into a permit only parking space, throwing an arm over the back of her seat and twisting around to get a better look. Kerry glanced over at him appreciatively, eyeing the way his t-shirt hiked up around his abdomen, giving her a good view of his muscled chest.

Michel was sitting back in his seat all too soon, smirking at her as he unlocked the doors. Caught. Kerry blushed, and quickly opened up her door and got out.

He was already there next to her, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her into the apartment complex. She almost ran smack into a trio of teenage boys coming out the same door she tried to go in.

One of them actually did smack into her and—purposefully, she suspected—used the opportunity to cop a feel. Then, as he passed by, he even had the audacity to wink at her. Michel's hand slid to her waist and he squeezed. Hard. He glared at the boy with narrowed eyes, his meaning clear as crystal.

_Mine._

Kerry stumbled, caught herself, and stood straight. Michel opened the door for her, and didn't let go of her waist until they were inside. Then he removed his hand and pressed the button for the elevator.

While they waited, he turned to stare at her curiously. "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

_With Jason? Why the sudden loss of resolve?_ The unspoken questions hung in the air.

"Ugh," Kerry groaned, "Don't kill the mood, please." Too late.

He fell silent, but continued to examine her as they got into the elevator. She met his gaze evenly. "What floor?"

"Thirteen."

She smiled playfully, attempting to regain some of the spark from earlier, "That's my lucky number."

He let out a startled laugh. "Its possible. If by luck, you meant bad luck."

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened into a quiet, austere hallway. Not really the type of place she'd pictured him living in, but then again, he'd never want to draw attention to himself in his own home.

_Only in other people's,_ the voice inside her head muttered bitterly. She told it firmly to shut the hell up.

And then they were in Michel's rooms, and he was pushing her back against the door, kissing her fiercely. A tiny flame lit in her lower belly and spread heat as it traveled upward. She curved her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

He tasted sweet, and his touch sent little thrills throughout her body. His hands moved to the buttons on her jeans, and his mouth slipped down to press kisses along her neck. She let out a breath and smiled, dropping her hands between them to caress his stomach. A tiny shudder went through him, and he tugged the zipper of her pants down impatiently.

Her heartbeat quickened as she reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, almost desperately. The energy in the room was nearly tangible. His blue eyes seemed to glow as he looked at her, baring pearly white teeth and fangs in a feral smile. Then she couldn't see anything because he was kissing her again.

Too long. It had been too long since they'd been together like this—

Kerry gasped and arched up involuntarily. He'd finished with the button on her jeans, and the other hand moved up to grab her waist, on the left side.

Ouch! She cried out again, but the sound had a different tenor to it. Gods that _hurt_. Michel paused, and looked at her.

"Kerry?"

She shook her head, still slightly dazed. Why had he stopped? But he was frowning at her in entirely the wrong way as he reached for the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up over her head. They both looked down.

There, on her side, was a massive purplish bruise extending from the bottom of her rib cage to her hip. Her head swam, and she felt queasy just looking at it. It must have happened when Jason…

Michel seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He was staring at her, expressionless, but she knew what he had to be thinking. "Kerry. Is he hitting you?"

Oh no. No, this was not what she wanted. But he was still waiting for her answer. There was no safe answer to a question like this. Kerry decided she would fumble through the truth—or at least, some semblance of truth.

She knew how _she_ handled issues like these. _Michel_ was the variable in this equation.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and said haltingly, "Sometimes. Only when he's been drinking, or I've been out too long. It was my fault. I made him angry."

She paused and shook her head, "I'm good at that, aren't I?"

Michel glared at her, furious. Point proven. She took an involuntary step backward. Those were predator's eyes, and she was smart enough to know that fragile human girls qualified as prey. He took a step forward, but all he did was toss her back the shirt he held clenched in his fist.

"You'll stay here tonight."

Kerry opened her mouth to protest, and shut it again with a snap at the expression on his face. There would be no arguing with the vampire tonight. That is, if he hung around long enough to argue with. She knew he hadn't fed yet this evening—he was always more prone to displays of violent emotion when hungry.

After he'd fed, expression was could be dragged more easily from a brick wall.

So she settled herself on the couch, careful to stay off her left hip. When she looked up again, Michel was gone.

"Possessive bastard," she muttered to the couch cushion. "He knows I don't _belong_ to anyone. Especially him!"

The cushion remained unconvinced. And Kerry, well…she wasn't too sure yet, either.

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Three guesses as to where Michel has _really_ gone. And the first two don't count. If you really have no idea, don't worry. You'll find out next time.

Done! Phew! So, you've made it through my fumbling attempts at romance. (-shudder-) Nice job. I felt a bit insecure in writing this chapter, because it involved so much _emotion._ Michel doesn't do _emotion._ Kerry, on the other hand, breezed right through.

Read and review, as always, and please leave a theme suggestion on the way out!

Happy holidays!


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Loyalty

Summary: _One of Kerry's friends is getting mixed up in dangerous things. Damn the Good Samaritan part of her heart—is is not her responsibility to go around saving everyone! But she knows she'll help anyway._

--------------

Delilah hadn't been herself in ages. Kerry had first suspected something was up when she found the tiny packet of weed in her purse. Delilah had smoked regular cigarettes since she was sixteen. But her brother had died of an overdose of heroin—and despite much evidence to the contrary, Delilah wasn't stupid.

And then she had started staying out all night, and coming in at around five thirty in the morning. Every night.

Now, Kerry wasn't too picky about roommates. After all, she'd endured Jason for months, and then _he_ had been the one to end it. She heard he was living with his sister now, and her fiancée until he could find a new place.

And besides, she liked this roommate. Delilah was fun, cheerful, and a good shoulder to cry on after a bad day. They had the same Psych class, and were both taking Calc II. She knew the difference between Hamlet and Macbeth, and could cook a mean lasagna. That is, when she was home for dinner—which was never, nowadays.

But anyway, she could handle a roommate with semi-nocturnal habits. So she said nothing. Until, one day, Delilah didn't come home at all.

………………

"Have you seen this girl?"Kerry shoved the picture in front of a group of boys from their Psych class. They barely gave it a glance.

"Nope."

"No."

"Can I have your number?"

Kerry sent the last boy a withering glance and turned away. She'd been getting the same responses for hours now, and was almost ready to give it up and call the police. But she was worried about what they might find in their investigations.

She wasn't an idiot. She knew Delilah was involved in some shady stuff—and not just drugs, either. So yeah, the police could probably bring Delilah back. But at what cost?

Someone pushed by her rudely, and she turned to snap at them. Until she recognized the retreating back.

"Hey!"

The guy stopped and turned around to sneer at her. She jogged over to him.

"Make it quick, sugar. I'm late as it is."

Kerry ignored him, and pulled out the picture of Delilah. "Have you seen this girl recently."

He opened his mouth, probably to give her the reflexive "no", until he actually looked at it. Then he did a double take. "Yeah."

"Yeah? Do you know where she is?"

Please, Kerry prayed. Hope was a dangerous thing, but she let it grow within her anyway.

"Nah. But I saw her a few days ago down at that goth club in Uptown. What's the name? DropZone?"

DropZone? Kerry hadn't heard of it. But Uptown? Something twisted in her gut. The guy shook his head at her. "She was with some guy. I don't know who, so don't ask. But they left together. Maybe she's hanging out at his place."

"Yeah, maybe." Kerry murmured absently as he walked away. She didn't try to stop him. Instead, she went back to the house. Something about this felt horribly wrong.

_Michel lives in Uptown._ A small voice in her head teased.

Yeah, and so does my second cousin Claudia, but that doesn't make her a kidnapper, Kerry snapped back.

The sun was just setting as she pulled into her driveway. Perfect. If she hurried, she might be able to find Delilah before morning.

…………………………

Kerry had never liked clubs, but she _hated_ DropZone on sight. No one around the place seemed to share her opinion, however. There was a long line to get in, filled with chattering and laughing patrons dressed in black and red.

She parked the car and glanced down at her purple tank top and jean skirt ruefully. She would stand out like a sore thumb. But she wasn't here for fun, anyway, so what did it matter?

She did get a lot of stares as she joined the queue, however. One of the more scantily dressed, studded collar wearing girls even asked her if she knew where she was. Which, Kerry supposed, she deserved, going in dressed as she was.

"I'm looking for a friend," she told them. Inspiration hit, and she pulled out Delilah's photograph, "Have you seen her lately?"

The girl took the photo and actually examined it before passing it around to her friends—which was more than the college kids had done. "She looks kind of familiar."

Another girl took a look at it and snapped her fingers. "I know. She's Jon's friend. You know, the new one."

Kerry raised an eyebrow. "The new one?"

The first girl, the one with the collar, shrugged. "Jon's sort of flighty. I mean, he'll be all intense and into a girl at first, but he gets bored quickly. I've never actually talked to one of his exes, but they don't come back here again. They probably don't want to see him again, or whatever."

Kerry's brow furrowed. "They don't come back here? So you don't see them anymore."

The girl shook her head. "Nah."

Thinking hard, Kerry asked, "When we get in, could you point him out to me?"

She shrugged. "Sure. But if I were you, I wouldn't get involved with him."

They'd reached the front of the line, and Kerry flashed her ID impatiently. The bouncer, a bored looking man in his early thirties, waved them inside.

"There he is."

Kerry followed the girl's gaze and locked eyes with a dark haired, green eyed man leaning against the far wall. He was incredibly handsome. He smiled at her invitingly. She took a step forward to confront him, but the helpful girl grabbed her wrist.

"Hey."

Kerry looked over at her impatiently. "What?"

"Play innocent, but experienced. Like you've done this a million times before but _still_ haven't caught on to the use-them-lose-them game." She released Kerry's wrist. "And he likes them young. Tell him you're underage."

Kerry nodded and turned away. The man was gone. She frowned and cast a glance around the club. Where had he gone?

Someone touched her waist, and she felt hot breath on her neck. "Hello, Princess. You look a little lost. Can I help you find your way?"

She glanced over her shoulder into a pair of dancing green eyes. It was him alright. She smiled and tugged his hand until it encircled her stomach. "I'm right where I want to be."

The green eyes darkened, and he flashed her a wide smile, complete with incisors. _Shit! Vampire! Should have known…_

He closed his mouth, and she could hear the soft click of his teeth. "Unfortunately, I'm meeting someone in a few minutes. If you'd care to wait for me…?"

"No problem." Kerry extracted herself from his hold and took a step back. He nodded to her and turned away, walking swiftly back to where he had been standing before she came in. She gave him a few second's head start before she followed.

He was already speaking to someone when she caught up with him. She couldn't see the other man's face—it was covered in shadows. But it sounded like her guy was pleading with him.

"…just another week, okay? I'll have it by then, Michel, I swear…"

Kerry froze. _Michel?_ She peered hard into the gloom, and sure enough, caught a familiar flash of blue eyes. She stepped forward until she was standing just behind Jon the Vamp. He turned his head and glared, irritation and surprise playing over his features.

"I thought I told you to wait!"

Kerry shrugged. "I got tired of waiting. I think I'll just get what I came for and leave."

Michel frowned at them both. "Kerry? What are you doing here?"

She answered him, though her eyes never left Jon. "This rat bastard did something to my friend. I haven't seen her in three days, and I want her back."

She tugged Delilah's picture out of her pocket and shoved it in Jon's face. He gave it a quick glance before looking at Michel. Michel raised an expectant eyebrow at him.

The words came reluctantly, as if they were being dragged from his mouth. "Yeah. We played around for a bit."

"Played around?" Kerry was indignant. "With the fangs out, or not?"

Jon gave her a disparaging look. "What do you think?"

Kerry glared at him. He glared back. Michel rolled his eyes at the two of them. "Enough. Jonathan, where is the girl?"

Jonathan gave Michel an incredulous stare. "What?"

Kerry took a step forward. "You heard him, buddy. Where are you keeping her?"

"But she's _mine_!"

If it had been happening to someone else, Kerry would have laughed to hear the childish whine in his voice. But it was happening to her, and so she was angry instead. But so, apparently was Michel.

He grabbed Jonathan by the collar and slammed him into the wall, furious. He leaned in and whispered something, too low to hear, that had the other vampire's face turn suddenly white as a sheet.

Kerry frowned and wished she could have heard it. But when Michel let go, and Jonathan crumpled to the ground, she got her answer.

"Corner of Lawrence and Broadway. The Chinese restaurant that closed two weeks ago."

"Thanks."

Kerry turned and strode determinedly toward the door. Michel shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and followed easily. She let him until she reached her car. Then she turned.

"What?"

"I'm coming with you," he said patiently, as if surprised she even needed to ask.

This threw her for a moment. Then she shook her head and filed it away in the back of her mind, to pore over the implications later on. It seemed she was always thinking about him, anyway, these days.

------------------------------------------------

Delilah wasn't as bad off as Kerry had feared. Bound at the wrists with masking tape, gagged and blindfolded with a bandana, sure, but with an open water bottle clasped in her fingers and a bag of chips nearby. Not as bruised as Kerry had expected. Neither was she as scared or weepy.

When Kerry tore off the tape and blindfold, Delilah had only blinked in surprise and reached up to yank out the gag. Then she turned her face away and screamed, loudly. Twice.

"MOTHERFUCKER!"

Kerry wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or maybe back away slowly. Michel was smirking behind her, she just knew it.

"Damn it! Son of a bitch! I said I wanted a good time, not some bondage blood crap! Asshole! Three fucking days! And he tried to fucking _bite_ me!"

Kerry gave in and laughed. "Stuff it, honey. First let's get you home and fed, and then you can rant as long as you want."

"Fine," Delilah huffed, and stalked out. Kerry turned to look at Michel. He was watching her again.

"Michel—" she began, and then stopped. Some things she just wasn't ready to confront yet. Instead she said, "Thank you for finding her. Who knows what would have happened if your friend had kept her."

"I didn't do it for her."

Kerry looked away.

Michel took a step closer. She really didn't want to ask, but she needed to know.

"Why?"

He smiled an odd half smile, half smirk, and she was certain her heart had stopped. Distracted, she ran a hand through her hair and tugged at it. A habit she'd picked up from him.

He wasn't going to answer. Instead he took a step forward, and kissed her. Lightly, but with the promise of something more behind it. Having been with him before, she knew exactly how well he could make good on that promise.

Just thinking about it made her weak at the knees.

But there was something else behind that kiss, something slightly darker. Something very much like staking a claim. Ownership. And then she knew why.

He'd decided belonged to him, and he wouldn't stand for anyone but himself playing games with her. If someone was using the roommate to bother her, Michel would put a stop to it on principle—not because he cared.

So Kerry forced herself to pull away from the kiss, and walk to the car where Delilah was not-so-patiently waiting without looking back. Because she'd seen what happened to the women Michel was interested in.

Or rather, she'd seen what was left of them afterward.

--------------

A/N: They're starting to tie together, these little pieces.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Title: Fear

_Summary: They told her she was just paranoid. And, honestly, she had really wanted to believe them. But even she knows it isn't paranoia if they really _are_ out to get you._

Someone was following her.

Kerry carefully kept her head facing straight, but snuck continuous peeks out of the corners of her eyes. Just one man this time, ragged jeans and a dirty polo. Baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, casting the upper half of his face in shadow.

It was still several hours until the sun disappeared below the horizon, though it was steadily making the trek downward. The air was taking on a colder tinge, and a sudden gust of wind made her shiver. Damn the bad instincts that had told her to wear shorts and flip flops to the store.

The weight of the four plastic bags she carried was cutting into her palms like a knife, but she didn't want to stop and put them down for a moment. If anything, she needed to move a little faster.

The man that was following her crossed the street so that now he was walking directly behind her.

_Damn._

Alright. So she had two options. She couldn't go home—if the creeper was following her around like this, he obviously didn't know where she lived. So going home was out.

She could stop somewhere crowded and call the police. That sounded alright. _Or I could…_ Kerry turned her head to stare at the looming buildings of downtown, opaque glass reflecting the setting sun like a thousand tiny flames.

_Yes._

With a slight shift in direction—she took two lefts and then walked straight instead of turning right onto her street—Kerry angled herself towards downtown. The sun was sinking in the sky almost noticeably with each passing minute. She could do this.

The man who was following her was being less careful, now that he'd come so far without being "noticed". She didn't disillusion him.

She allowed herself to stop once, and shake out her hands. The lines that were grooved there almost looked permanent. Once sufficient feeling had returned to her fingers, she picked the bags back up again and continued on.

A quarter hour later and she was sure she would never use those hands again, because they would never uncurl out of this horrific, claw-like shape. Ten minutes after that and she was getting irritated. She'd been carefully taking the most circular route possible that kept her within a half block's radius of Uptown the entire way. He should have noticed her by now.

So _where the _hell_ was he?_

She got her answer soon enough. As she was turning once again to take another detour, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. Behind the follower, a shadow detached itself from the wall. Kerry stopped moving.

The man met her eyes, and confusion flashed in them for a moment, before an awful awareness set in. He knew he'd been set up. Slowly, he turned—and Michel had him down in an instant.

Kerry blinked at the figure on the floor, and shook herself. She took a step closer, and peered down at the body. "Is he dead?"

"No. I'm sure you'll want to interrogate him first, and then I'll have some questions for him as well."

"Huh."

Michel picked up the body and swung it over his shoulder with ease. "Come on."

They walked together quickly, taking the smaller streets and sticking to the shadows to avoid being seen. Someone as "young" as Michel carrying a man twice his size and three times his body weight would just raise unnecessary questions.

"What took you so long?" Kerry asked after a while. "I'd been making circles around this place for almost an hour."

"I ate out." His voice was cold, and she picked up the hint.

"Well then."

Silence descended, but it was a silence filled with thoughts, and not the silence of an awkward pause. So it was fine. She found herself wondering how these people had found her again, and why _now_ of all times.

But then again, you never could tell with vampire hunters.

Something occurred to her and she spoke up again, "Michel, we're not taking him to your apartment are we?"

He shot her a disapproving look. "Of course not. We'll do this at the club."

Kerry shook her head and looked away. "This has all the trappings of an underfunded, low-budget mafia film."

That got a smile out of him, but it was a crooked one. "And I suppose you'd be the gorgeous female sidekick?"

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and all she could think was, _He thinks I'm gorgeous?_ Then she forced herself to shake it off and laugh.

"Definitely not. Aren't those always the bimbos without brains?"

The next smile he aimed at her was pure sass. She mock scowled at him as they came to a halt behind his club. "Keys are in my left back pocket," he told her.

She frowned at him and reached around to grab the keys. It felt more like she was groping him, and she wondered vaguely if that wasn't the point. "Got them."

"Good." He was definitely laughing at her. "The red one opens this door."

She sorted through the keys—there were many, and not all were coded with such a simple thing as color—and inserted the right one. The lock clicked, and the door swung open with an ominous creak. Michel followed her inside, and she shut the door behind them.

"How—" Kerry turned around and stopped. Michel had placed the hunter unceremoniously onto a chair opposite a long wooden table, procured handcuffs from somewhere (she didn't really want to know, she decided) and was using them to restrain the man.

Then he disappeared for a minute, and returned with a glass of water. He threw it onto the hunter's face, and the man gasped, eyes flying open, choking as he inhaled the liquid. Michel turned to Kerry.

"Would you like to begin?" he asked, ever the courteous gentleman. He flashed her a wicked smile, all teeth.

Kerry rolled her eyes. So they were going to play it _that_ way, then. "Sure." She looked the hunter up and down, slowly, in an obvious and calculating way. Then she grabbed another chair from the stacks by the door, and plopped it down in front of him, backwards. She sat down facing him, and crossed her arms over the back of the chair. Michel smiled and moved to the back corner of the room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. The hunter tracked Michel's movements warily.

"Soo." She drew the word out, giving the hunter a slightly ditzy smile. "Why were you following me?"

He glared, clearly intending to suffer in stoic silence. Mentally, Kerry heaved a sigh. She hated this part of the game; it was boring.

"Aw, come on. You can tell me." She leaned forward and gave him a wink. "Really."

He eyed her disdainfully and raised his chin. She glanced over at Michel, who took the hint. He crossed the room in two swift strides, grabbed a handful of the hunter's hair and slammed his head forward into the table.

The man yelped and struggled, pulling at the handcuffs. Michel leaned down so his mouth was close to the man's ear, and whispered,

"Better give her what she wants."

It wasn't fair. Michel _always_ got to play the bad cop.

"Hey!" Kerry got up, scowling. "Leave him alone, Jack."

Michel's eyebrows shot up. "We tried asking nicely, _Jill_, but it didn't look like it was working." He turned a contemplative glance onto the hunter. "I'll bet he can take some more. Break an arm, cut off a few fingers. Then he'll talk."

Kerry sighed loudly and put her hands on her hips. "Leave his fingers attached. The last time you tried cutting off the fingers you missed and slit the guy's wrist. We won't get our answers if he's _dead_. Duh."

Michel smiled darkly. "Come on, don't be like that. It was his own fault for being so damn twitchy. I didn't even get to the ring finger."

The hunter eyed them both, eyes flicking back and forth, and he said in a panicked voice, "Wait! I don't know anything, I swear!"

Kerry paused and glanced over at him with a start, as if only just remembering he was there. Michel took a menacing step forward. "I don't believe you."

"Come on, Jackie," Kerry smiled at the _angry_ look he shot her, "He probably just got a bit confused. Maybe he doesn't know what we want."

Michel looked back at the hunter. "Who hired you?"

Sweat broke out on the man's brow. "I don't know his name! A friend of mine referred me; he said he'd pay me two grand to follow some chick around town and take pictures."

"I think you're lying." Michel's voice was level, but his eyes were like two chips of ice. Kerry's bubbly façade slipped as she glanced at him, surprised. He wasn't acting anymore. She forced a loud, tinkling laugh.

"Aw, that's it? I mean, I know I'm cute and all…"

"That's it! I swear, I'm telling you the truth!"

"Hm." Michel leaned back onto his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. "That's too bad. I guess you're worthless now."

"No wait! I—I might know something else! A meeting place, he said he'd meet me in the parking lot next to the hotel on Main Street. Tomorrow, twelve o'clock. If you go there, you'll find him."

Michel's head cocked, and interest flashed briefly through his eyes. "All right. We'll remember to keep your appointment for you, then."

And, quick as a thought he had the man by the hair again and gave his head a hard knock. The hunter went out like a light, and Kerry eyed his unmoving body.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

Michel looked up at her from beneath his lashes, and smiled crookedly. Her breath caught.

"No, he's still alive. Though I could fix that for you, if you'd like."

"No," she said faintly, "Just leave him."

Michel obligingly stepped away from the still form, and moved toward her until he was far too close for comfort. At least, her brain acknowledged this. Her body didn't seem to get it.

"Yes, I suppose it would be a little much to kill him for taking pictures of you." His breath was warm on her cheek, and she shivered. "After all, who can blame him?"

Before she could think about it, she turned her head sharply and caught his mouth with hers. He stiffened in surprise, and then relaxed, pulling her closer. She wound her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, running her tongue across the back of his teeth.

His lips quirked into a smile against her mouth, and the texture of the kiss changed. She knew, vaguely, in the back of her mind, that she was giving him _exactly_ what he wanted, but couldn't quite bring herself to care. He tasted like everything she had ever wanted for herself, and everything she'd ever been denied.

This, she knew, was more right than anything would ever be again. And so she broke the kiss, breathing hard, and stepped away.

He moved to pull her back, making a small, soft sound of protest in the back of his throat. She put a firm hand on his chest and took another step back to clear her head.

Michel let her go with a frustrated sigh, and stepped away to let his hands hang loosely at his sides.

She swallowed around the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. "Call me if you decide to follow up on this guy's contact."

And then she made herself turn and walk away, not looking back. She heard the crash of what must have been the table flying across the room, and a loud curse as the door slipped closed behind her. She took a deep steadying breath and continued forward.

This wasn't a game she'd signed up for, but it was one she'd play through to the end. And she was playing for keeps. So she had to look at the big picture; move toward the endgame. And maybe he was _so_ much older, and had been playing these tricks with girls before her mother was born, but she had thrown everything into the pot this time—even her heart.

And she wasn't about to lose.


End file.
